


Innocence

by Sugarmouse



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 17:37:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1866522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugarmouse/pseuds/Sugarmouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An early morning conversation.</p><p>For the Murder Husbands Network weekly prompt <a href="http://murderhusbandsnetwork.tumblr.com/post/89579541153/prompt-and-this-weeks-prompt-is-innocent">"Innocent…?"</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Innocence

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Casey270](http://archiveofourown.org/users/casey270/) for the beta!

Hannibal rolls over, hands sliding across the sheets as he searches out Will’s body. He grasps nothing but air and opens his eyes. Will sits by the window, the early morning light peeping in through the parted curtains, bathing him in a faint glow, the sunlight catching along the planes and edges of his body, cutting the silhouette of his face out from the wall behind him.

Hannibal smiles and props himself up on his elbows to get a better look. Will looks thoughtful, staring and still. The only movement is the slight rise and fall of his chest, the slight clench in the muscle of his jaw and the occasional blink as he stares out the window.

”You’re up early,” Hannibal says. He sits up straight in the bed and stretches wide. He sighs as he slumps forward, relaxed and calm. It’s peaceful and quiet at this time of the morning, as far from the city as they are. Will turns his head to look at him. He smiles at Hannibal, but it’s not a true smile. When Will is truly happy, his face lights up. Now he smiles from a place of social convention and reassurance.

”What’s wrong?” asks Hannibal, and Will shakes his head and turns to look out the window again.

”Just thinking,” Will says quietly, and he shifts in the armchair a little bit so he can prop his elbow on the side and rest his chin in his palm. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Hannibal leans forward over his own knees, the sheets shifting as he presses himself back against his pillow to get comfortable. He runs a hand over his face and yawns before returning to a more favourable pursuit; watching Will.

”Anything you wish to talk about?” Hannibal asks, and Will shrugs and shakes his head. He stands and stretches, his hip tilting out at an angle. Hannibal swallows and watches as Will tilts his hip to the other side as he rubs his eyes awake.

”Thoughts that aren’t much good on a nice day like this,” Will says quietly, and he walks towards the bed. He sits and slides himself back under the sheets, and Hannibal lifts his arm, allowing Will to snuggle into his usual position underneath. Hannibal rubs along the skin of Will’s back, and Will rests his head against Hannibal’s chest.

”You think too much sometimes,” says Hannibal softly, and Will grunts.

”Yeah,” he says, and he shifts a little, burrowing harder against Hannibal’s body. “Can’t help it, though.”

”Yet you don’t want to talk about it.”

”It’s not that I don’t _want to_ , Hannibal,” says Will, and he sits up, turning so he can look up at Hannibal. Hannibal smiles at him, moving a strand of hair across his forehead and smiling fondly. Will shakes his head. “It just won’t do any good.”

”Memories then, regrets,” says Hannibal softly. Will rests his head back against Hannibal’s chest, and they sit in silence. Will runs his fingers in small circles along Hannibal’s side, light enough to tickle slightly, but Hannibal doesn’t move.

”Do you ever think…,” asks Will softly, “about how we’re...I don’t know, it’s stupid.”

”No,” says Hannibal, rubbing his hand along Will’s back. “Tell me.”

”It’s just silly. We’re each the good guys in our own stories, right?”

”Not all stories are so simple, Will,” says Hannibal. He looks up at the ceiling. “We’re the protagonists in our own stories. The rest depends on your definition of _good_.”

”Do you think the things you’ve done make you...I don’t know, the villain?” asks Will, and Hannibal’s hand stills where he’s been tracing circles along Will’s spine.

”I would think that by most people’s definitions, my actions would place me in that category, yes. Though I don’t construct my worldview like that, Will.” Hannibal takes a breath and frowns at the ceiling. The thoughts that enter Will’s head sometimes can be so fascinating. “There are no villains, only our actions. I don’t believe assigning an outside morality to my own desires and actions serves me in any way.”

”So it’s just about what you want?” asks Will, and Hannibal frowns, sensing some kind of trap in the words.

”What brings you to these thoughts?” he asks, and Will sighs softly, sliding his fingers along Hannibal’s side, down to the bone of his hip and as far down his thigh as Will can reach in this position.

”Just some late night thoughts, dreams, I suppose.” Will shifts in what might be some semblance of a shrug. “Regrets too, about things that are too late to change.”

”You regret this,” says Hannibal softly, stilling his breathing so he can hear each pause and hitch in Will’s breath and words as he thinks and responds.

”I just feel as though I should mourn,” says Will, his words sounding careful, measured. “It’s too late to get certain things back, and I don’t think I’ve given sufficient time to mourn their loss.”

”I take it you don’t mean certain _people_ ,” says Hannibal, frowning at the ceiling. He knows Will mourns people; he knows he mourns his old life. Hannibal can see the evidence around them in photographs and the foreign press that Will devours online that brings him any connection to his old life.

”Something more intangible than that,” says Will, and they fall into silence. Hannibal returns to tracing shapes across Will’s back. He feels the heat of Will’s body pressed against him, the warm puffs across his skin with each breath and the small soft ticklish movements of Will’s fingers.

The light creeps in brighter, casting patterns of light into the room. Hannibal looks at the ceiling and watches the lines of sun slide across the surface. Will stills eventually, drifting off again, and Hannibal smiles at the quiet of this early morning moment.

”You’ve gained so much more than you’ve lost,” says Hannibal softly to his sleeping companion. He brushes his fingers through Will’s hair, and Will makes a quiet murmuring sound in his sleep. Hannibal smiles as he slides himself free, carefully rearranging Will on the bed and planting a soft kiss on the top of his head.

Will looks peaceful, finally catching the sleep his restless night has robbed him of. He looks so _innocent_ , and Hannibal tilts his head to watch and marvel at him, his Will. Despite what Will thinks, that is one thing he has not truly lost. On some level, deep inside, Will is still innocent despite everything that they’ve done together.

Hannibal moves to dress and make them breakfast, and he’s quietly grateful the whole time that he can hold onto something so sweet and beautiful and rare, even if it is only vicariously.


End file.
